


Wretched Fucking Seadweller

by secondhandact



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Begging, Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Petplay, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondhandact/pseuds/secondhandact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you'd resumed your kismesissitude with Eridan Ampora, you hadn't expected it to go so well.</p><p>Fortunately, you've learned a few things. N8mely, like how to put him in his place. With a collar. And a leash.</p><p>At least he puts up a little 8it of a fight before he goes down. ;;;;;;;;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wretched Fucking Seadweller

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caalsio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caalsio/gifts).



If there’s one thing Eridan Ampora’s good at, it’s being on his knees.

It’s where you’ve got him right now, and he looks mad as anything, but he’s still—obediently, through a sulky scowl and with his eyes closed—lapping at your nook and nuzzling at the base of your bulge, one of his ring-clad fingers holding it back so it doesn’t slap him in the face. There’s blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow and he’s definitely not happy, which is just how you like it. 

You give a yank on the leash you’ve got in your hand and thread your metal fingers through his hair, forcing his face more firmly against your nook. You’d spent all evening kicking him around, and now it was your turn to get something you wanted out of it. “You make a really great nook-sucker, pet,” you purr, licking your lips. “I’m honestly amazed you don’t do this more.”

He doesn’t answer (of course he doesn’t, he knows better), instead redoubling his efforts of pleasing you, and when he hits your sweet spot with his long tongue you allow yourself the luxury of moaning, rocking against his mouth. “Mmm, just like that, Eridan. I might make something useful out of you after all.” You pull at his hair, prying his mouth away from your nook. “Why don’t you give my bulge some love? After all, it’s _so_ needy right now. Just like you.”

He pushes skewed glasses back in place and glowers up at you. 

In warning, you lift one finger, twitching it back and forth. “Hey, I don’t want to have to put you back in your place. Is that what you want right now?” Without waiting for an answer, you jerk your bulge out of his hand and press it against his lips, the tip wriggling past them and shoving into his mouth. There’s only a couple seconds before he’s choking on it, and you can feel the back of his throat constricting around you. 

That’s exactly what you want—so you’re understandably pissed when he pulls back, coughing. “Jeez, Vris,” he gasps, rubbing his throat. “Ain’t you ever heard a’ _finesse?_ ” 

Now it’s you scowling, and you pull viciously at both hair and leash, dragging him to his feet. This means he’s still making lovely little choking sounds while he claws at the collar locked around his neck, which is satisfying as all hell. “I think you should ask that of yourself, pet. After all, that was pretty artless for someone who claims to be a master of strategy.” You catch his jaw, fingers finding the pressure points at the back of them and squeezing. Honestly, you’re pretty sure Eridan’s got some serious masochistic tendencies, because the way he reacts is only a _little_ pained.

At least he’s got his hands at the small of his back, where they’re supposed to be.

“I don’t think I need to tell you who’s in charge here.” You squeeze a little harder, and he whimpers, his entire body rocking forward, desperately seeking contact with you. You (of course) don’t give him the satisfaction. “Do I?”

“N-No sir,” he pants. He’s not even looking at you, his entire face flushed a vivid shade of violet. “Please—”

You apply just a little more pressure and are pleased to see tears beading in the corners of his closed eyes. Then you’re pushing him away from you, releasing the leash you’d been using to keep him close so that he stumbles and falls. “Begging already?” You smirk. “I know pets aren’t allowed on the relaxation platform, but I’ll make an exception. Just this once.” 

You know you don’t need to remind him to stay on all fours, and as he scampers across the floor, you catch his backside with a couple solid swats. He’s up on the relaxation platform in a pumpbiscuit-beat, and you kneel at the small chest you keep at the foot of it. 

“You changed your tune right quick, didn’t you?” You chuckle to yourself as you sort through the toys you’ve got stashed away, finally pulling out a rather substantial plug. “I guess you were hoping I wouldn’t get out this little thing.”

When he catches sight of the plug you’ve pulled out, his eyes widen, tears welling in them. This isn’t the first time you’ve rammed this plug up his insolent waste-chute, and the last time you’d left him with it inside him for almost an hour while you set him crawling around the room, performing tricks. It was apparently such a memorable experience that now, he’s falling over himself trying to apologize. “Please, sir, I didn’t—”

“Shut up.” You ease onto the bed, catching him by his knees and yanking his thighs apart. You’ve always used your robotic hand to get him lubed up, and today’s no different: you shove three of them into his nook. They come out dripping (which just goes to show that Eridan is just as into humiliation and being used as you think he is), and you slather his own juices against his backside. “Did I ask for your mouth?”

He’s almost trembling at this point, tension humming through his whole body. “N-No.”

“Hold your bulge. I don’t want to get some filthy animal’s juices all around my nook.”

Near-sobbing, he reaches down, gathering his thick bulge in his bejeweled hand. When he squeezes it, you swat him, and he yelps. Rolling your eyes, you press the metal tip of the toy against his ass, easing it into him with little to no consideration of his personal comfort. “You know, you really do deserve this,” you inform him, paying no attention to the fact that his breath is coming in tiny, aching hitches. “You’re lucky I give you anything at all.”

When the round base of the plug is nestled between his cheeks, you sit back, surveying your work. Eridan really does make a pretty picture: he’s trying his hardest to be still (which is good; if he got all squirmy now, you’d have to find another way to punish him), his thighs quivering as he continues to hold them apart, bulge writhing desperately in the cage of his hands. There’s streaks of violet on his face, and his eyes are still pretty steadily leaking fresh tears, though they’re still closed. He’s trying to breathe. He’s not doing a very good job.

You watch him passively, one hand sneaking between your legs to give your own hungry bulge just a little attention. After a few moments, you speak. “Are you sorry?”

“Yes, _fuck_ yes, Vris’— _Sir_ —please, I’m—It w-won’t happen again, I—”

As he blubbers his apologies, you slide closer to him on the bed. “On your knees.”  
Falling swiftly silent, he immediately rolls over, his ass in the air and his shoulders against the pillows. _Good._ You hadn’t given him permission to use his hands to support himself, and—for once—he hadn’t made any assumptions. You’re training him well, you decide.

Your fingers bite into the flesh of his hips, and you tug him closer to you, letting the length of your bulge slide along his dripping nook. “Do you want this?”

Still silent, he nods, panting as your bulge traces the edge of his gasping nook. “Good.” 

You thrust forward, grinding your hips hungrily against his own as you shove every last inch of your thick bone bulge into his hole. For all the times you’ve fucked him, Eridan is still amazingly tight, and the way his muscles ripple around your flexing organ is the most satisfying thing about him being your pet. 

Your bulge curls back on itself, pressing at the walls containing it as you rock against Eridan. He’s not even bothering to hold back his sounds, moaning in the most pathetic way as he arches beneath you, struggling to get as much contact as he can out of your body. He’s always so desperate to be touched, and you wrap one arm around his waist, brushing aside his fingers so you can grab ahold of his bulge, letting it twine desperately through your fingers. “Are you my good little bulge-pet?”

He nods, and you reward him with a few vigorous strokes of his aching organ.

“Dirty little slut.”

There’s another nod, and you release his bulge, pulling out from him, relishing in the hungry little cry that this elicits from the seadweller you’ve currently got beneath you. It’s a simple thing to throw him onto his back, and you barely give him a second to recover before you’re buried back in him.

His bulge, unrestrained, is rubbing at the inside of your thighs. “Fuck your Mistress, pet,” you whisper.

When his long tentabulge snakes its way into your nook, you allow yourself the luxury of a moan. With you setting the pace, it’s easy to get exactly what you need from the writhing organ within you, and you pound the seadweller beneath you mercilessly, his cries echoing in the small room. 

He’s gripping you hard enough that you’re sure there’s gonna be bruises tomorrow, and you fit your hand around his throat, squeezing until he’s choking. “Disobedient asshole,” you pant. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you pick up the speed, pounding Eridan. His eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back into his head. “Gonna put you in your fucking _place_ , you wretched fucking seadweller—”

He doesn’t respond, and it doesn’t matter, because you’re cumming so hard you’re almost screaming, your bulge hard and throbbing as it paints his inner walls with your genetic material, your own nook clamping down on his bulge and coating it with cerulean fluids that drip down his shaft and onto the bed beneath you.

He’s not done, and you know it, which makes it all the sweeter when you let your bulge withdraw into your carapace and pull him out of you. “Clean yourself up,” you tell him, snatching his obnoxious scarf off the floor and using it to mop up the spunk that’s sticking to the inside of your thighs. “And then you can go finish yourself off, if you do it quietly. I don’t want to hear your pathetic little whines while you’re playing with yourself.” You throw the scarf at him. “And keep that plug in your ass. You haven’t earned its removal just yet.”

Already, he’s using his scarf between his legs, wiping at his well-used nook with little breathy pants. You smirk, heading towards the ablution trap. Yeah, you did good in making your kismesis into your pet, and he doesn’t seem to be complaining, either.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually written petplay before, so this was a lot of fun to do! I also am a big fan of Vriska Serket, contrary to popular belief. :3 I just don't have much faith in my ability to write her.
> 
> I like Eridan as a sobbing mess, tbh.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
